


Forgive me, my brother

by ZusupaTanhi



Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: M/M, Male Slash, Torture, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-01-05
Updated: 2013-02-12
Packaged: 2017-11-23 18:49:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/625430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZusupaTanhi/pseuds/ZusupaTanhi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Altair was imprisoned for five years after his betrayal of the Brotherhood. Will he earn Malik's forgiveness, and will the two have a happy ever after? rated T for kissing and hints at sexy times. Rating subject to change at any time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Dark, Broken Place

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is pretty dark in the beginning, but it has plenty of happy moments later on. Please comment, if you feel like it, so I can improve in future.

Altaїr cursed as he rattled his chains for what felt like the millionth time. Shaking violently with pain and hunger, the former assassin collapsed back against the dirty wall of his cell. Rough brick and stone left their dirt and grime on his skin, making it feel slimy and disgusting, but Altaїr was losing the ability to care. 

It had been ages since the horrors of Kadar’s death and Malik’s injury. Ages since Altaїr had been locked away to suffer by Al Mualim. Memories of that terrible day surfaced unbidden, and Altaїr moaned in agony. Hot tears scalded the shamed and demoted assassin’s eyes. Altaїr longed for the warm caress of the sun on his skin, for the feeling of wind playing over his face. Such small things made him feel so envious of those who were free that Altaїr would gladly have traded anything to feel them again. 

Above all, Altaїr longed for the friendship and comradery of his assassin brothers. 

“Malik,” Altaїr whispered achingly, “I am so sorry for what I did!” 

Knowing that Malik couldn’t hear him didn’t stop the former assassin. He just needed to hear something besides the sound of footsteps outside his cell. With a sob, he continued; “I was so rash, so foolish. My mistakes cost you so much...if only you could hear me, and I could tell you how sorry I am!”

Breaking the Creed had been so easy at the time. So simple. But it had caused terrible amounts of damage to both Altaїr and the Brotherhood. How stupid it had been to spit in the face of rules established by men wiser than himself. Malik had probably chosen to leave Masyaf, in favor of starting a new life elsewhere. He’d probably never forgive the man who killed his brother and taken his arm. 

Each breath made Altaїr shudder with revulsion. It stank down here, where fresh air never reached and dead vermin littered the cold earth floor. Darkness permeated everything, making it impossible to see without a torch. Altaїr couldn’t tell the difference between when his eyes were open and when they were closed. The air, the stone, everything was cold and dark and harsh. 

Thump, thump, thump!

Altaїr flinched, startled by the sudden sound of footsteps. Frightened, he pressed himself against the solid firmness of the wall. The cold, slimy stone only served to make him feel worse. The sound of his cell door being opened caused terror to flood the Syrian man’s veins. 

As the door opened light - bright, blinding light - filled and overwhelmed Altaїr’s senses. Blinking wildly, Altaїr threw up a hand to protect his eyes. The black metal chains that bound his wrists jangled at the movement. Laughter sounded in front of the Syrian man, causing him to whimper in fear and cringe away. He’d become a laughingstock among the Brotherhood for his failure to follow the Creed. 

Suddenly, a hard kick drove all of the air from Altaїr’s lungs. He gave a pained yelp and fell flat on his stomach, feeling the earth benath his fingers and against his face. 

Jeers and hoots sounded above the former assassin, the mocking of those he’d left behind:

“This thing used to be one of us?”

“Impossible! It looks as though it has never seen the light of day before!”

With each breath, Altaїr prayed in anguish, Allah, please...let me redeem myself. Give me some sign of hope!


	2. Ch. 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Malik's thoughts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is an exploration of the Dai's thoughts on Altair.

The harsh, hot sun blazed over Jerusalem, illuminating all and leaving nothing untouched except for the meager shade provided by carts and stands. Bells clanged occasionally, punctuating the harsh cries and yells of sellers and buyers. People bustled every which way beneath the high buildings, preoccupied with their simple lives. From the highest vantage point in the city, a lone figure peered out, looking at what he thought of as his domain. He wore long, dark robes which left his sun-kissed golden skin and short black hair visible. The figure watched all below him with deep brown eyes that missed nothing.

Malik Al - Sayf enjoyed coming up here occasionally to think about life and ponder various other secrets of the universe. Others came here only rarely, to this forgotten part of an old tower. It was his haven, his place of safety. Today, however, Malik was troubled by current events.

The dark-eyed Dai had no idea why Altair was on his mind lately. Murderer, he thought irritably. It had been a long time since he’d thought of the cocky, foolish bastard who’d killed Kadar. Even his brother’s name brought horribly painful memories bubbling to the surface. A fiery feeling began to course through his veins, making Malik growl angrily under his breath. Why was Altair on his mind lately? The dark-eyed Syrian man didn’t want to think about his enemy. Altair deserved to rot in the cell he’d been thrown in until he died. 

Unbidden, the image of Altair being stabbed through the shoulder flashed before Malik’s eyes. Blood had stained the blade as it appeared, cutting through the skin, and anguished screams had rung out as that blade was twisted viciously. Al-Mualim certainly made the traitor suffer that day. 

“Dai Malik?” A voice called from behind him. 

Twisting around to look at the window, Malik saw the white-robed messenger who had hailed him. The messenger was hanging out said window, hands cupped around his mouth so that his voice carried enough to be heard. 

“I am he. What is it that you want from me?” Malik queried impatiently. His mouth formed a straight, grim line across his face, indicating how little he wanted to deal with other people at the moment.

“Al-Mualim sent me to tell you that you are needed in Masyaf,” the messenger explained. Noticing the Dai‘s obvious annoyance, he explained as quickly as possible. “Something about final judgment and a traitor, he said to me.” 

Altair...Malik’s eyes widened at the thought. Icy cold horror flooded his gut, and he felt as thought he’d just been punched. Of course! Al-Mualim had told him all that time ago that he would imprison the traitor for five years, and then present him to Malik for final judgment. It was an old tradition among the Order; one rarely used these days. So long had it been that even the dark-eyed Dai had forgotten about it. Nodding slowly, Malik stood and made his way back inside the tower towards the messenger. He dropped through the window and dusted himself off before replying. 

“Very well, then. Tell him that I am coming as swiftly as possible.” At the Dai’s words, the white-robed messenger departed with a hurried goodbye. “I want to get this over with quickly...” Malik murmured to himself, frowning. 

Seeing Altair again would be an awful experiance. How in the world can I face that man? How? He ruined me and got my brother murdered, all because of his stupidity and pride! Allah, what to do?

It was necessary, however, if Malik wished to be truly free from the pain of his brother’s death. Taking a few deep, cleansing breaths of the hot, dusty Jerusalem air, Malik strode off to get his things packed. The Grand Master was waiting for him and did not take kindly to people being late.

**Bloody...I’m so sorry I didn’t put up a new chappie earlier. Please bear with me as I attempt to figure out a good update schedule!**


	3. Is there Hope

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The visit.

Altair coughed harshly, huddling against the cold stone of the wall. The only sounds he could hear in the darkness were the lub-lub, lub-lub of his heart and the soft rasp of his breath. Pain radiated throughout his body and Altair whimpered pathetically. Nobody could hear him, nobody could see him, nobody would save him! Terrified, the demoted assassin began to sob. 

_Allah, I’ve sunk so low!_ he thought sorrowfully. Each tear that slid down his cheeks burned as it made contact with the many cuts and bruises on his flesh. In the icy cold they felt hot and wet. 

Hours slid by without any change in the world around him. Altair shifted uncomfortably, bored out of his mind. This was probably one of the worst parts of being imprisoned. Boredom had always been Altair’s worst enemy. Now he was stuck with it as a constant companion. He attempted to occupy himself with memorizing the dips and curves in the wall he rested against. 

This occupation caused his chains to rattle and clank violently in the silence, but it helped to calm Altair’s mind and let him ignore some of the pain from his aching body. Surely they would bring him food soon! Even the thought made the former assassin’s mouth water. Hard bread and stale water were hardly luxury foods, but at the moment he’d take anything offered with gratitude. It made him want to gnaw on the ragged clothes that clung to his body - a habit that he now indulged. The threads wore away beneath his teeth as even more time passed with insufferable slowness. 

Thump, thump, thump! Altair frowned. Those were the footsteps of booted feet, not the soft, light steps of the novice who brought food to the cell each day. What madness was this?

Clank, click, went the key in the lock. On cue, Altair covered his eyes to avoid being blinded by the torchlight that filled the room. His dirty, scared body was illuminated and caressed by the warm, flickering glow. Before his eyes had the chance to adjust, though, heavy blows slammed him to the floor. 

“Unf!” Altair cried, twisting and writhing in a vain attempt to seek refuge. More blows fell and he yelped wildly as mocking laughter rang out above him. “Stop this! Please! No...Allah, let me go, stop it, please!”

“What, are you getting upset? Want your mother, Novice?” one of Altair’s assailants mocked. 

Raising his head weakly, Altair gave the assassins a pleading look. “I...let me go...you’ve hurt me enough for one...day.” His voice sounded truly pathetic and scared. Jeers rang out the second he finished speaking. 

_Snick!_ the sound of a knife being drawn sounded in Altair’s ears. Horror chilled him to the bone immediately as he recognized the intent behind that knife. They would torture him to death, leave him to bleed out in this dirty slice of living hell! 

“Ayah!” Altair screamed as hot agony seared through his right shoulder. The former assassin fought to get away from the knife blade that twisted viciously in his flesh. His harsh screams tore through the air. Altair’s throat ached from lack of water, his eyes burned with tears, his body screamed with agony. 

_Let me die, please!_ he prayed, clenching his fingers into a fist. _What kind of God are you, that you are so cruel?_

Then everything just stopped. The silence was only broken by weak, panting sobs that took a moment for Altair to recognize as his own. Unmoving, the former assassin waited, listening to the soft footsteps that approached him. 

Who had stopped the torture? Very slowly, Altair gazed upward, blinking to focus his eyes. The man’s face came into focus, causing Altair to give a weak cry of joy. He recognized Malik almost instantly. This truly must be his lucky day, then; Malik would let him free, have pity on him!


End file.
